Starbucks coupled to a restriction

Just after finishing lunch my iPhone rang. By the time I’d put the bowl down, my daughter, Jordan’s call had been ended. I needed then to either wait for her to try again or to return it. Yah, I called her right back. A call during her lunch hour felt odd. Being a high school teacher typically means there’s little time to do much else than teaching after rushing from classroom to classroom or watching your students lackadaisically wander into the classroom. So, being the dad I am, I wondered whether she had something serious to talk about.

All Jordan told me when she answered was, “Dad care to have a coffee with me over at Starbucks?” to which being the kind of guy I am, I answered, “Yes!” I needed to go only a block and across a marginally busy street to be there. She on the other hand, still had about a mile of busy streets to move on down. I quickly packed a few things, just incase I decided to stay there for awhile.

Discovering her car already parked at the coffee shop was almost embarrassing to this boy. Brushing those childish feelings aside, I walked on in finding Jordan up at the counter finishing up her order. She and the store’s manager, a young lady as cute in my eyes as my daughter and the same age asked me what coffee I wanted. By the way, I’ve met and talked with that manager’s husband a time or two.

Nonetheless, I pushed their query aside with, “Thanks ladies, but my neurologist has restricted my total fluid intake.” Not knowing about this recent change in that part of my life, Jordan asked, “Why?”

“Well, sweetheart,” I’ve been calling her that for many years, “my doctor determined that my anticonvulsant had changed my sodium levels and she wants me to just simply keep the medication by restricting my total fluid intake.” I laid out a few more lines about how limiting the cups of liquid I take in per day will return my sodium levels to normal and so help to lessen my potential for seizure activity. Of course, I loved watching the two ladies, whom I know via conversations are intelligent, become marginally confused. Oops, I’m certain I’ve tripped over another of those egotistic urchins in my life.

Anyway, what Jordan had asked to talk about at our favored Starbucks about was my assisting her in the domain of computers. She knows her father is not geek, but I am still someone she knows can find his way through such dilemmas. In recent history, more because I know how to use the internet to learn or use my iPhone to call someone who knows more I have repeatedly shown in her eyes! So, now I have become the person she’ll be turning to as she begins developing her language programs high school website.

I’m now setting back wondering where in the haberdashery of life I’ll turn as my daughter pushes me again, over the precipice of my knowledge base?

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About the author

Before 1999 I was active in mental health doing assessments, emergency interventions, psychotherapy, domestic violence group treatment, and consulting in the foster care system. Rapidly, in 1999 I was lovingly shoved in disability because of temporal lobe epilepsy. Then, in June of 2001 my left temporal lobe was chucked into a trashcan. Since then, I have been playing at reconfiguring the who I had been. I just have too many spare parts still strewn across the floor.